To Taste Death
by Amy G
Summary: Voldemort is back, and so Severus Snape must return to the most dangerous of tasks.
1. I

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piA/N--Hopefully the first chapter in a series, but I've never written a serialized fic before, so people may have to yell at me if they want to see more.... When you get to the end, send me over the moon by typing something in the little box--good, bad, anything so long as it's useful ^_^ Or you can give the local owl some exercise and e-mail me at chimara.geo@yahoo.com  
br*Disclaimer* Severus Snape, Hogwarts, the Death Eaters, etc. are the lawful property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just taking them out for a spin--I promise to return them safely. */disclaimer*/i  
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When he left the grounds of Hogwarts at the end of June, it was as if he was stepping into another life. Severus Snape would be doing significantly more than writing his curriculum over the holidays. If he was miserably unlucky, he thought sourly, he might help write history.   
  
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As he'd pointed out to Potter and his crowd once, years ago, when they'd been sitting in the library and gabbling over the great things they planned to do, historic events only happen when things have been let slide far enough to need them. The trouble was that things had slid quite badly in the last few years.   
  
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In fact, they looked like taking a severe drop soon. He didn't have to like McGonagall to know she didn't exaggerate, and he'd seen the body. If there was one thing Snape hated worse than stupidity, it was iwillful/i stupidity. Dumbledore ought to have taken the Ministry when it was offered to him. Unfortunately, it took a different and more serious sort of madness than Dumbledore's to want ithat/i.   
  
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The Hogwarts Express lurched away from the platform with a blast of its steam whistle. Sitting to himself in the front car, Snape considered who best to contact. Goyle or Nott might be reliably dense enough to make a safe bet....   
  
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Snape sighed inwardly. Outwardly, he was alert and a little deferent under Auguste Nott's suspicious gaze. Nott was average height, solidly built, and altogether unassuming in appearance, and currently his light brown eyes were inspecting Snape with a suspicion that looked out of place in his round face.   
  
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"Couldn't come? When your master summons you for the first time in thirteen years?" It was the obvious question, but Nott's tone was more held more irritation than censure. iWhy me?/i was transparently visible on his face. Yet Nott could act when he wanted to, Snape forced himself to remember. The Ministry had let him off despite some quite damning evidence--which Snape himself had collected, giving him another cause for caution.   
  
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"I was on the grounds of Hogwarts. Apparition is blocked, if you recall. I could hardly leave at the climax of the Triwizard Tournament without attracting interest." Snape's tone was dry despite his efforts.   
  
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"True, but--" Nott looked away and fiddled with his empty glass "--why do you need me to intercede? That's a reasonable enough excuse, and the Dark Lord seems in a mood for second chances." His relief of a few weeks ago slid into his voice; Snape noted it, as he had been everything else.   
  
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"I fear my Master's anger," he said neutrally.  
  
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"As you should!" Nott snorted, but did not manage to conceal the shiver in his words. "You'd be angry too, if you'd spent the last thirteen years as a wraith! But," he said, his voice filling with confidence and ambition, "he has conquered Death, and he will raise us up beneath him." Snape imagined he could see a green glow in Nott's eyes.   
  
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"So you'll speak for me?"  
  
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"I suppose.... You don't forget your debts, Severus, but I'll see to it you pay this one."   
  
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Snape nodded and rose. He didn't forget. His life might be simpler if he did.   
  
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Snape took a small room in the Leaky Cauldron, above Diagon Alley. He had nothing to do but wait for word and no interest in fooling himself with unnecessary tasks, and so he spent much of his time reading. The books he occupied himself with would not have been allowed outside the restricted section of the Hogwarts library; quite possibly Mad-Eye Moody would have had a thing or two to say about them as well.   
  
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It was important to stay in practice, especially now.   
  
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He kept the books at the bottom of his trunk. Beneath them was a secret compartment he hadn't opened in nearly twelve years. In the unlikely event that Moody let the books pass, the contents of this compartment would have sent Snape straight to Azkaban. iWelcome, please check your soul at the door,/i he thought darkly when this occurred to him. The trunk, which he ordinarily ignored as he would any other piece of furniture, now drew his eyes uncomfortably.   
  
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He had been in Diagon Alley a week when a small spotted owl brought word from Nott. It was in the form of a letter about his daughter, an unexceptional student of Snape's. Severus ignored the first page entirely, his focus jumping to the postscript. Nott wasn't terribly clever; it ought to be obvious-- iAh/i...   
  
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The postscript invited Snape to a party, the date to be announced later. A corner of his mouth curled up as he read it; anyone who knew him at all well would be suspicious of that.... But as far as he could tell the message had arrived unintercepted, and he knew, more or less, what to expect. For now, he would wait. He was getting quite good at it.   
  
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Being good at waiting didn't mean he enjoyed it. Three days later Snape's patience was wearing thin, as was the carpet in front of the windows, where he'd taken to pacing. He was filled with an edgy, nervous energy for which he had no outlet. It had been a long time... twelve years....  
  
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He couldn't sleep, and found himself awake through most of the night. He had worked with people, years ago, who possessed the soldier's ability to snatch sleep whenever possible. He had tried to pick it up, but it was unsuited to his nature. Often, then, he had gone for days on a few hours' sleep; he found himself returning to those habits now, as if in preparation.   
  
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Before dawn on the fifth day Snape felt suddenly drained. He sank into a chair and blinked at the open pages of iForbidden Curses/i on the table in front of him. He closed his eyes--  
  
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--and seventeen hours raced past.   
  
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He was jerked from his sleep by a searing pain in his left arm. He almost cried aloud before he remembered what it was.   
  
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The Mark.   
  
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He pushed back his sleeve to make sure--as though it could be anything else!--and the skull-and-snake grinned back at him, charcoal dark against the pale skin. The trunk in the corner crouched, waiting for him.   
  
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He had his few possessions out of it before he had time for second thoughts. His fingers found the handles on its bottom and he whispered the password, barely loud enough to be heard.   
  
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There was a click, and the false bottom came loose in his hands.   
  
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The black robe still fit well--frighteningly well, in fact. In the back of his mind, he could feel the other Snape, the Snape who had no place among the living. The other blinked, stirred, and grinned malevolently at him as it stalked forward.   
  
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Next was the cloak, heavy black wool with a tarnished silver clasp wrought in the shape of a serpent. He left the hood down, for now. The Mark began to burn stronger, almost as strong as the day it was branded.   
  
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His hands shook as he reached for the last object in the trunk--like the hands of an addict, or a man afraid; he wasn't sure which. It was lighter than it had any right to be, as he lifted it up and smoothed the black material over his face. Within the mask, Severus Snape, Death Eater, smiled.   
  
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It was a terrifying sight. 


	2. II

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Chapter II  
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A rocky, flat-topped tor projected from the swirling mist that covered the moor. The evening sky was hidden by a low, featureless overcast. Gray light from the gray sky illuminated a dark gray stone island in a pale gray sea. Specters in black were the island's only inhabitants.   
  
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Severus Snape's first thought was that he had somehow ended up in Limbo. His second was that, considering the occupants, it was Hell if it was anything.   
  
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Even before he had gotten over the initial chill of his surroundings, ingrained habit took effect, and Snape began making notes. iWherever we are, it's far remoter than He used to choose; He's being cautious. Where /iarei we? North, certainly/i....  
  
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He stepped reflexively into his place in the circle of Death Eaters. With a thrill of apprehension he raised his eyes to the figure at the center. It was cloaked and hooded, but as it turned, he saw that it was not masked--  
  
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His lungs ceased to work and his heart to beat as he took in the snake-like face and infernal eyes, but the burning gaze passed over him without notice. The part of his mind that remained coherent noted that Potter's description had not exaggerated in the slightest.   
  
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Evidently evading Death brought one perilously close to becoming it.   
  
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"So," breathed Lucius Malfoy, "Dumbledore's tame snake dares to show his skin."   
  
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Lord Voldemort's eyes met his in passing. Just for a moment, before he looked away unable to bear more, he could swear the Dark Lord had iwinked/i at him. A thin membrane, like a snake's, had slid over one red, pitiless eye for just a moment. It was enough to send a shiver down Malfoy's inflexible pureblood spine, and his aristocratic face paled behind its mask.   
  
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The last few figures appeared in the fog and silently took their places in the circle, and Voldemort, finished surveying his followers, began to speak.   
  
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"My loyal friends," he said, in a voice like dry old parchment, but carrying, "how good to see you again. You are all well, I trust? There seem to be a few more of you than last time. Calton, Gregory, what delayed you?"  
  
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Two of the Death Eaters, on opposite sides of the circle, trembled visibly.   
  
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"Master, the Ministry--"  
  
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"Master, I dared not--"  
  
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The dry voice cut them off irresistibly. "You dared not, when your brothers and sisters risked as much? You dared not, who were so brave thirteen years ago--ione/i year ago--but you will have an opportunity to discuss it later," Voldemort added before they had time to interject. He turned his face toward Snape. "Severus. I had thought you lost to us, but Nott apparently believes otherwise. What of Karkaroff, do you know? My late, faithful servant seemed to think you were fast friends."   
  
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"Master--" Snape began, but his throat felt like newspaper and no sound emerged. He swallowed and tried again. "Master, Karkaroff is a traitor and a spy, and no friend of mine. He fled when iHarry Potter/i--" Snape barely had to work to convey hatred at the name "--reappeared, but before that he urged me to go to Dumbledore when the Mark returned. I cannot say how much Dumbledore already knows, from him."   
  
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"I see." Voldemort's eyes, with their inhuman slit pupils, were unreadable. Not that they had been any more so when he had been human, of course. Around the circle from Snape, Lucius Malfoy shifted tensely.   
  
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Somehow, Voldemort noticed. Perhaps he had been waiting for it. "You have something to say, Lucius?"   
  
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Malfoy cursed inwardly. Snape could dig his own grave without any help from him, and he would prefer to avoid this altogether. But now that he had been called out, he had to speak. "Master, Karkaroff is indeed a traitor, but Severus Snape is worse. He has been a spy since before your" he barely paused as he substituted isetback/i for ideath/i "and he has worked for Albus Dumbledore for more than ten years since. His intent is the same now as it was thirteen years ago--he plots your downfall."  
  
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"This is very interesting," Voldemort said in a mildly speculative tone that made his listeners cold. "Your stories seem to be completely at variance with one another. Whom should I trust? Neither of you--" his speech started to take on a sing-song quality "--has been especially faithful to me over the past decade. Perhaps I should place my confidence in ssomeone not sso eassily sssubverted...." His voice devolved into a hissing tongue that Severus recognized instantly. No one who had ever heard Lord Voldemort speak Parseltongue, he realized distantly, could possibly find anything Harry Potter said in it the least bit sinister.   
  
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In the same disconnected frame of mind, he watched a long, low shape emerge from the mist and enter the circle. The Death Eaters edged aside to let it through with an uncharacteristic haste. Voldemort spoke again as it coiled around his feet.   
  
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"Nagini here is one of my most faithful servants. It was she who nourished me when I was weak, and at my most vulnerable. She owes her existence to me. Perhaps it would even be true to say she worships me. The one thing she lacks is the human capacity to reason." The giant snake raised its head to peer up at him, and Voldemort's long, white fingers scratched it absently as he continued, "But she has never needed it. Nagini understands fear, and she knows what to do when she finds it. Of course--" He glanced at Snape, and Severus felt his red gaze clear to the back of his skull, "--if you are telling the truth, you should have nothing to fear. For the moment, at least."   
  
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There was another hiss--from Voldemort or the snake, Severus wasn't sure which--and the huge creature began to move toward him, uncoiling from around its master as it came. Severus stiffened, then tried to force his muscles to relax. His right hand made a fist, longing for the wand that, stuck through his belt, might as well be miles away.   
  
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Severus stared straight ahead, refusing to let himself stare at the snake. He wasn't quite prepared for the slight rustle of his robes that meant Nagini had brushed against them just the tiniest bit. He told himself not to jump and looked down.   
  
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The snake had surrounded him with one full loop of itself. It was looking up at him, and he had to bite his cheek to keep from shouting. Nagini's eyes had slit pupils, like all other reptiles'. But where they should have been yellow, they were red. They looked exactly like Voldemort's.   
  
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Their effect was the same, too. The snake's eyes pinned Severus in place. He felt like a horrible reversal of a snake charmer's act he had seen once. Half of him wanted to laugh about that--wanted to giggle helplessly, in fact--but the other half was paying more attention to Nagini's coils as they tightened around his legs.   
  
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That half realized what was going on almost at once. While part of him dwelt on irrelevancies, the other part knew that Nagini was using him as a sort of ladder--had already reached his waist, in fact--and that when the snake reached his head, it would feel his heart racing and look at his face and know that he was not just afraid, but petrified.   
  
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And then he would die. Of course, even if he hadn't come back intending to spy he would have been terrified by now. Perhaps it didn't matter to Voldemort particularly; he would make an example to remember either way.   
  
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iExcept that I won't/i, said the other Snape, the one he had put on with the mask. The snake was up to his chest now. He could feel scales, cool and slightly rough, through his robes and against the backs of his hands. If he opened his eyes (when had he closed them, anyway?) he would probably find himself completely hidden in coils of snake.   
  
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iExactly/i, said the other Snape, and he gave a cold grin that the ordinary Severus would never dream of using, at least not in public. And Severus began to work his hand round toward his wand, concealed by the body of his opponent. After all, he was in it so deep already that he couldn't possibly make things worse. And besides, he reasoned, a real Death Eater treated justice as merely another challenge to be overcome.  
  
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The other Snape didn't need to reason this. He iwas/i a Death Eater. And he was in charge now. Severus felt he was only watching while someone else slid his hand toward his wand. He watched as Nagini wound upward to head-height. He watched as some other person got his fingers to his wand only barely in time--  
  
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And was jolted back to himself as Nagini's eyes found his. He was wrapped in coils of snake which could crush him as easily as breathe, and its face was inches away from his, mouth half-open so that he could see its fangs, which were enormous, and it flicked out its tongue, tasting the air, and it would itaste/i how scared he was because he had never been so afraid in his ilife/i, and he'd seen quite a lot...  
  
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There was nothing else to do, so Severus gripped his wand and whispered, "ifont size=3Imperiofont size=4/i."  
  
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As Nagini unwound herself and slithered away, Severus closed his eyes for a moment. He could ifeel/i the adrenalin racing through his veins. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight.   
  
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Between that, and the depth of Voldemort's hood, he didn't see the smile that appeared briefly on the Dark Lord's face.   
  
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Lucius Malfoy bit back an oath, behind his mask. His mind raced to catch up with the situation. There had been no uncertainty and nothing Machiavellian in his accusation of Snape; he iknew/i the man was a spy. And a spy was more than dangerous at this point. It would mean that Dumbledore and his side started out ahead in the war that was surely coming. Even with Voldemort returned, the Death Eaters could not afford to lose any advantage.   
  
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When Voldemort had named the trial, Malfoy had thought Snape's death assured. He had half assumed Snape would cheat, but he hadn't expected his master to let him get away with it! Was there a purpose here? Or could there be?   
  
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Perhaps Snape could be of some use to them. It would certainly bear thinking on.   
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bra/n: And you thought I'd never write a second chapter! Well, so did I *g*. But I did--started the third part, too, if you can believe it. So it seems this story is alive and well and living in...er... Boston, actually. ^_^ And to answer some of the people who reviewed the last chapter (thankyouthankyou!) I know You-Know-Who knows that Snape is a spy (hopefully you can tell from this part?). But he never said it outright, so I figure that while the cleverer Death Eaters understood him, not all of them did. And dear Severus hasn't figured it out yet... *veg*  
pI don't do tricks as a rule, but I'm getting quite practiced at begging for reviews *beg beg beg* It's hardly any effort to put something in the little box \/ and it makes Amy very happy *bg* Or you could send me an owl at chimara.geo@yahoo.com 


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